In His Memory
by PillowsWithWings
Summary: An American war veteran must come to terms with his best friends death, and his own physical obstacles.


**In His Memory**

**Day 26**

"Ready!" The honor guard sergeant yelled to the firing line of seven men. "Fire!"

The gunshots rang through the open fields or Arlington Cemetery, echoing off any surface they could land upon. I stood in the open field next to Helen Spiker, my best friend's mother. Helen was in tears, emotionally destroyed at having to bury her own son.

"…Yet, as the firing squad ends their respects, and we all depart to do our duties, remember that death is not the end of a relationship, it's only a changes in it. Yullian is still in our hearts and in our minds, and he will never truly leave us, because his memory is still there. Have a wonderful day, all, and may God be with you." The priest of Yullian's funeral began to wrap up the ceremony. As he finished, everyone began to leave, leaving their condolences with Helen, giving her soft embraces and kisses on the cheek.

"Thank you. I love you too. Yes, keep well. Don't worry, we'll see each other soon." She said to the departing mourners of Yullian.

Once, everyone was heading to their cars, and the last of the mourners had paid their respects, Victoria walked over to my right side.

"Hey." She said through quiet sobs.

I hadn't noticed her until she greeted me. She was Yullian's younger sister, and his death also destroyed her. In wrapped my right arm around her tightly, and she wrapped both of hers around my waist.

"I'm so sorry for your loss." I said, trying to comfort her.

She looked up at me through confused, tear-filled eyes and asked, "_You're_ sorry? You just lost your other half. You _witnessed _him die. Aren't you hurt?"

I dwelled on what she said, looking at my best friend's permanent abode as of a month ago. "More than any of you combined." I finally said in a whisper.

"Victoria, honey." Helen called to her daughter, walking up to us, "It's time to go, sweetie."

Victoria and I looked at Helen. I simply walked to her and wrapped my arm around her.

Silence. Nothing was spoken as Helen reclaimed her now-only child, and headed to her car.

I was alone. The cold early-November wind nipped at any of my exposed skin, and my thoughts did not exist. I was overwhelmed by the loss of my best friend, and I couldn't bear to think of life without him. He was there for me when I needed a shoulder, he was there when I needed help. He was, as Victoria put it, my other half.

"His loss is, indeed, a terrible one." A familiar voice came from behind me. I turned around, and looked at my sergeant, Johnathan Turias. He was a broad man, with receding black, now greying, hair, wrinkles laid all over his face, and a stern, commanding look. "Yullian was an excellent soldier, and I'm truly sorry for his death." He placed his hand on my left shoulder in an effort to comfort me.

"Thank you, sir." I responded.

"No need for formality, son. We may be in uniform, and I respect it fully, but we are still human, and now is not the time, Lucas. You both suffered a loss. Him, his life. And you, your friend."

Trying to make things lighter, I tried to make a joke, "let's not forget the arm," I chuckled silently, moving what was left of my left arm, which was half of the bicep, in a circular motion.

Johnathan looked unamused, then smiled slightly. "I suppose it was a good attempt to lighten the mood."

Johnathan never was the humorous type.

"Let me drive you home. Maybe we could grab a drink to settle your emotions." Johnathan said to me, beginning to escort me to his truck.

"Yeah, sure. On you, of course." I joked.

**Day 57**

I awoke from my slumber later than usual, around 11 A.M. In the Marines, I was up by 5 A.M., and either in the middle of physical training or on patrol around the large, Middle-Eastern city I was stationed at. I never liked patrol, but Yullian made it better…

Yullian.

_His death couldn't have happened,_ I thought to myself. _I know I'm missing an arm, but I swear, I'll call Yules up and he'll answer._

I did just that. I called Yullian up on his cell phone. The feeling of talking to him again made my body shiver. I missed him so much. I don't know why we stopped talking after we were discharged.

"_The number you are trying to reach has been discontinued,_" the voice over the phone said to me. _That's_ why.

I immediately hung up the phone. Why did I always think that he would answer? We buried him weeks ago. I needed to get with it. I rubbed my eyes with my remaining hand and got out of bed. The kitchen, which led from my room to the front entrance and the dining room/ living room, was freezing, and the tiles that decorated the floor were cold and unwelcoming. I walked over to my coffee machine. There was easily another cup remaining in the pot, which by now was surly cold, since I haven't made a pot of coffee since last Friday.

I didn't care. I filled my personal mug with the cold coffee and knocked it back, the bitterness of its flavoring stung the back of my throat. I must be coming down with a cold or something, since coffee usually doesn't irritate my throat like that.

After downing the nectar of the gods that fueled most of America's work force, I started another pot, since I simply loved that distinct taste of coffee.

The rest of that day was like any other for me on a weekend: long, boring, and unproductive. I sat in front of my computer screen and browsed the news, trying to get my mind off of Yullian's death.

_"ISIS forces move into Baghdad",_ I read later that day. _Great, _I said to myself,_ more ISIS bullshit. Why can't they just stop?_

I wrapped that day up with more mourning of my dear friend, still unable to believe that he was gone.

**Day 62**

The bell that signaled my lunch break, along with the men down in the factory, rang loudly. I went to my locker at the other end of the floor, and took out the roast beef hero I purchased earlier at the deli. I went back to my desk and embraced the soft leather cushions of my computer chair.

The local deli was amazing. Their heroes were incredible and addictive, really cheap, too. I fiddled around with the wrapper, trying to utilize my only hand in a variety of ways to open up the only thing barring me from my spectacular lunch.

After about half a minute of fiddling with the damn packaging, I had enough.

"Fuck this damn wrapper! Holy shit!" I yelled in the middle of the floor, and threw the sandwich across the room. I flipped over my computer chair in a fit of rage and went to head outside for some fresh air.

"What is all this ruckus?!" the floor manager, Paul, yelled as he stormed out of his office. Paul never was a pleasant person to be around, so his general demeanor and balding head that could torch an ant with the light it reflected pissed me off even more.

"Shove it up your ass, Paul! I don't want to hear your shit!" I yelled at him as I continued to the elevator. Paul simply stood there with his angry glare and stared at me until I entered the elevator and pressed the button to the main lobby. Before the doors closed, I could see everyone staring at me as I realized what I had just done.

Over the course of a minute, I had thrown a sandwich and possibly hit someone, flipped my computer chair, 'interrupted the working progress' as Paul would later state in my termination notice, and cursed out my manager. To anyone else in today's society would claim, I just set myself on a bad path. But, as the elevator lowered to the lobby, I could only feel anger.

**Day 64**

After my outburst earlier in the week, I decided it was time to see a counselor. I suspected that Yullian's death had affected my personality, and there might possibly be a way to cure me from whatever was transpiring inside my mind the past few months.

"You are suffering from the stages of guilt." Doctor Richards told me after I poured out my story to him. "It happens to everyone who suffers a loss. At your friend's funeral, you were still in shock, unable to process his death. It's the mind's way of protecting itself from pain. When you tried to call him a month later, thinking he was still alive, that was denial. But, a good sign is that you were past that stage when you had your outburst at your old job the other day. That, obviously, was anger."

"Why am _I _going through it? Why couldn't he just have lived? I should've seen that damn guy running over to us, but I didn't notice. He would've survived if I had just noticed him." I began, tears forming at my eyes. After a few moments of silence, I whispered "if only I could've done something."

"Bargaining." Richards spouted almost immediately after I finished my sentence.

I looked up at him. He somehow knew everything about what I was feeling. Maybe he _could _help me get through this…

"Luckily," he began again, "You are progressing on a positive note. I might say that, since your anger only stayed for a few days, that you might accept his death within the month."

"Do you really think so?" I asked him, full of hope.

He let out another one of his reassuring smiles. "I _know_ so, Lucas. Don't worry. In time, you will be perfectly fine."

"Thank you, doctor." I said, beginning to take out my checkbook to attempt to write him his co-pay.

He stuck his hand out. "No, no. This session is on the house. Think of it as my way of payment to the vets."

I smiled, tears streaming down my face. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Lucas," Richards said through another kindhearted smile. "Let me escort you out."

**Day 70**

I woke up at noon today. The first thing I noticed was my lack of willpower to do anything. It took most of my will to even get out of bed. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I looked at the floor, my arm resting on my thigh. I let out a cough from deep in my lungs, and got up, striding to the kitchen. I noticed the pot of coffee was empty, and I didn't feel like making another, so I got dressed and headed down to the coffee shop at the end of my block.

I stepped outside my apartment, the street was decorated with a holiday theme. What day was it? I could have sworn it was March already.

I ignored the festivities and headed down to George's Coffee Shack. They made the best coffee within a ten mile radius of my apartment, and of Washington, D.C., for that matter. I entered the brewery and was greeted by the beautiful smell of caffeine and coffee beans. The slight murmur of patrons floated in the air, but it was not too much of a bother to me.

"Good afternoon, sir," the young barista greeted me. "What will you have today?" She asked in a sweet voice.

"Brazilian roast, black, no sugar, and largest cup you got." I said to her quickly and quietly. She took a moment to process my request through the quietness of my order, and the distraction of my missing arm.

"Of course, sir, that'll be four—"

I interrupted her by placing a five dollar bill on the counter. She took it and as she was taking out my change I responded with, "Keep the change."

She nodded and began to brew my coffee. I turned around and looked out the shop window at the falling snow. Yullian always loved the winter time, and Christmas.

"Excuse me, sir?" A little girl asked me, tugging on my right sleeve, trying to get my attention. She was no older that five, and bore the face of pure innocence. I looked down at her and smiled slightly.

"What can I help you with?" I asked in a monotone voice.

"What happened to your arm? Why is it missing?" she asked in such an innocent voice.

I knelt down beside her and began to tell her a censored version of how I lost my arm in the Middle-East.

"Well," I began as tears already formed at my eyes. "I was with my friend. We were soldiers. We were walking around when a bad man ran at us. He hurt both me and my friend."

"What happened to your friend?" she then went on to ask.

I sat in silence for a moment or two, until I responded with, "He's in a better place."

"You mean Heaven?" she asked.

Tears were streaming down my face at this point. "Yes, dear. He's in Heaven. He was really, really hurt by that man."

"That's what Mommy said happened to Daddy. He was hurt by a man in a faraway place. I miss my daddy."

The little girl telling me her father was killed as well sent me into an emotional overflow.

"Oh, come her, dear." I said in a shaky voice. I wrapped my arm around her held her close, this embrace being the first ever since Yullian's funeral, when Helen hugged me.

"Rebecca! Come here." A voice came from the entrance to the coffee shop.

"Okay, mommy. I was just speaking to the nice soldier." She said, skipping to the entrance.

Her mother's eyes and mine met for a moment. Her mother looked at my left side, and her face shifted to an understanding, yet hurt, look. She nodded, said 'thank you' under her breath, and left with her child.

"That was very nice, what you did." An older woman said after I turned back around to see how my coffee was coming.

"I know how that little girl will feel. She hasn't had the full payload of feeling hit her yet." I said, taking a few napkins, wrapping them around my cup, and picking the cup up.

The older woman opened the cash register and handed me a five dollar bill. "Take it. I know how _you _feel as well. My brother died in war a few years ago. Get well soon, okay?" she said to me as I placed the cup and napkins down and took the five.

I smiled heartily. "Thank you," I said, as I slid the five into my wallet and set up my makeshift way to avoid burning my hand on the hot cup of coffee.

"Have an amazing day and enjoy your holidays." She said to me, heading back into the back rooms of the coffee shop.

I smiled to her and began to walk put, taking a small sip of the coffee and nearly spitting it out due to its molten rock-like temperature.

**Day 77**

Christmas morning. I could hardly believe it was only Christmas. It felt like years had passed since that fateful day when that damned bomber ran up to me and Yullian…

_No, I needed to move past that,_ I said to myself as I got out of bed. _He has died, and I need to just move past it. _

For some reason, I wasn't depressed. Or angry. Or in denial.

I felt happy. Truly, happy. Of course, I didn't have Yullian to spend Christmas with, but, nonetheless, I felt happy. I knew that Yullian was in a better place, and, as I dwelled back on the words the priest said to close his funeral, I realized that he was still there with me. In heart, and in mind.

I decided that it would be best to spend Christmas with the ones I loved. Since my parents were already at Helen Spiker's place, I decided it would be best to make myself known to them all that I had accepted Yullian's death and that I was a better man for it. I was functional again.

"I want to let everyone know that Yullian will forever be in our hearts and minds, and to never forget what he has done to alter our lives for the better." I said later that day during dinner. "He was a, truly, amazing person and his deeds will forever be known to us. Let's toast." I said, raising my glass. Everyone at the table followed suit, some crying, some comforting those that were.

"To Yullian." I said.

"To Yullian!" The rest of the table toasted to him.


End file.
